


Pilgrims, Parties & Partners

by clgfanfic



Category: Houston Knights
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanksgiving in Houston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pilgrims, Parties & Partners

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the letterzine Partners and Friends and later in Compadres #18 under the pen Name Lynn Gill.

          "What's your problem, LaFiamma?"

          "Nothing, I just think it's a stupid holiday, okay?"

          Lundy glanced at his partner.  Something was obviously bothering the dark-haired man, but all the Texan had been able to drag out him was a string of illogical complaints.  The morning traffic continued to move past them as Levon slowed and pulled in to park at Chicken's.

          "It's a little early for lunch, isn't it?" LaFiamma asked.

          "Yep, but it's plenty late for a cup of coffee and an explanation."

          "Jesus, Lundy, can't a guy have an opinion around here without you badgering him to death?"

          "Sure, if it makes sense.  And I don't figure there's somethin' else under it.  Now, come on."

          The Texan slid out of the Jimmy and waited for LaFiamma to do the same.  Together they entered the rib house and took their regular seats at the counter.

          Chicken gave the pair a single once over, then headed for the coffeepot.  Returning with two full cups, he set them down in front of the men.  "Well," he said, "it looks like you two are havin' a good mornin'."

          "I would be," Lundy replied, "if it weren't for LaFiamma's complainin'."

          "Look," the Italian told Chicken, "all I said was: I think Thanksgiving's a stupid holiday.  And he started in on me like I was a security risk or something."

          "Hmm," Chicken commented.  "I have to get back to my ribs.  I'll leave this one to the two of you."  He left the pair sitting in a stony silence.

          "I don't get it," Lundy finally said.

          "Get what?"

          "You, LaFiamma.  I don't understand why you can't get into the spirit o' things."

          "I can get into the spirit of things as well as anybody, but not this particular holiday."

          "So tell me why."

          "Look, just because _your_ ancestors came over here full of self-righteous zeal, and took the Indians' land and food, and then came up with a national holiday to celebrate—"

          "Whoa, hold up a minute, LaFiamma," Lundy interrupted, drawing out the man's name with an exaggerated drawl.  "My people weren't pilgrims."

          "Oh?"

          "No.  Mother Minnie's people were sent over here from Ulster, in Ireland.  They were deported to Philadelphia in the 1640s."

          "Deported?"

          "Yeah, deported.  You have a problem with that?"

          "No," Joe replied.  "Guess it doesn't really surprise me."

          "What's that supposed to mean?"

          "Nothin'."

          "I'll have ya know the reason my people were deported was because they didn't like what the British were doing to the Irish.  Mother Minnie's ancestors were Scottish.  The British sent them to Ireland to help subdue the Irish in Ulster, but they ended up fightin' with 'em and they got kicked out."

          "I see.  Where were your dad's folks from?" LaFiamma asked, growing interested with Lundy's knowledge of his family genealogy in spite of himself.

          "Grandpa Lundy said that his great-grandfather came from Germany.  He came over here after the Revolutionary war and started up as a blacksmith in Germantown, Pennsylvania.  His son left and headed south to Viriginia to try growin' tobacco.  My great-granddaddy left Virginia and went to Texas with Austin."

          "Real pioneers, huh?"

          "I guess so."  Lundy finished his coffee and studied his partner.  "So what's the real reason for all this?"

          "Nothin', Lundy.  Thanksgiving's all fine and dandy for folks like you who have a long history in this country, but I'm first generation American.  My grandfather brought my father and his brothers over here after the first World War. They were hounded through the 1920s, and lost everything in the 1930s."

          "That when your family got involved with the mob?"

          "Yeah.  They couldn't get work during the depression, but they knew they could make good money with a speak-easy," LaFiamma grinned.  "I grew up listening to stories about Capone, the mob wars in the 30s, gin-mills, flapper girls…"

          Lundy smiled.  "Yeah, I grew up listening to the stories about settling Texas, fightin' the Indians, the Alamo, the Civil War.  There's more than a few similarities there."

          LaFiamma nodded.  "I guess so.  Still, I just feel like Thanksgiving's not for my people."

          "I know the feeling," Chicken said as he filled their cups again.

          "You, too?" Lundy asked, surprised.

          "Well, I don't think the foundin' fathers had my people in mind when they came up with Thanksgiving."

          "No, I guess not," Lundy admitted.  "But it's more than just a celebration of our past.  Granted, a lot of that past isn't something to be proud of, but there's a lot that we can be proud of.  Thanksgiving isn't about pilgrims anymore.  It's about our families and…"  Lundy trailed off, the expression on his partner's face telling him he had hit on the real problem LaFiamma was having.  "That's it, isn't it?"

          "Huh?"

          "You… All this gripin' about Thanksgiving being a stupid holiday."

          "Well, I think it is, especially for immigrants—"

          "You're missin' being around your family."

          LaFiamma didn't reply for a moment, and when he did, he pulled himself up and glared at his partner.  "Yeah, I am.  Something wrong with that?"

          Chicken suppressed a smile and wandered back to turn the racks of cooking pork and beef ribs.

          "Naw, nothin' wrong with that," Lundy said, sipping on his second cup of coffee.  "I know how that feels."

          LaFiamma saw the flicker of pain that crossed his partner's face.  He did know.  "I guess I am a little homesick."

          "Nothin' wrong with that, LaFiamma.  You just shouldn't go takin' it out on the holiday.  Besides, you've got a family here, too, you know."

          "Yeah, I know, but…"

          "It's not the same.  Yeah, I know, partner, but sometimes we got t' take what we have and make the best of it.  Sometimes it turns out pretty good, too."

          LaFiamma grinned.  "I suppose so."

          Chicken leaned against the counter and chuckled.  "So, you two have plans for turkey day?"

          LaFiamma shook his head and Lundy shrugged.

          "'Bout what I figured.  Why don't you two stop by here, then.  I cook up a mean barbeque turkey."  The two detectives laughed.  "No foolin'."

          "Oh, we believe you, Chicken," LaFiamma said.  "It's just…  oh, hell, why not. What do you say, Lundy?"

          "Sounds good to me.  Why don't we invite Joanna and Annie along?" he suggested.

          "Sure, and you can invite Jamie, too," LaFiamma said.

          "Jamie!  Hell, I almost forgot.  She said she was going to be cookin' this year. That means she's gonna want me to come over."

          LaFiamma tried to conceal the disappointment and nearly succeeded.  "Hey, that's okay.  I can stop by, Chicken."

          "Tell ya what," Lundy said.  "Why don't you come over to the house?  We'll throw a party, invite everyone there.  We can even pick up some of Chicken's ribs and barbeque turkey to fill out the table.  You're not gonna be here all day, are you?" he asked the black man.

          "No, I planned on lettin' Carlos close for me."

          "There, see, you can come by when you're finished here.  Whatdaya think?"

          Chicken nodded his willingness to go along.

          "How about you, LaFiamma?" Levon asked.

          He thought for a moment, then nodded.  "Okay.  Yeah, sounds good."

          "You bet it does," the blond said with a smile.  "We all got something t' be thankful for, Joe."

          "Now that's true enough, Levon.  True enough."

The End


End file.
